I just went out to feed the chickens. Hot oatmeal and bologna. It’s 1 degree F. I open the flaps of the goat shed and the chickens explode in panic. I see two dead chickens on the floor. A rooster and my youngest little hen, Honey. She was just getting tame.
The chickens are flying back and forth screeching. I look around. There is a tiny Cooper’s hawk on the perch. That little bugger was half the size of any chicken in there and he had blood on his beak from chowing down on my little hen. Blerg.
The hawk keeps flying back and forth, creating panic wherever he lands. I propped open the door flap so he could easily see the way out. No dice. The turd wanted to stay in the goat shed with his next 20 meals.
I was wearing leather mittens so I finally just picked him up by clamping his wings to his sides and carried him to the door and gave him a toss. He flew away.
I put the chicken bodies out under a tree so he can finish eating. No sense wasting them or letting a tiny hawk starve to death.
My new egg layers that I get in the spring will be locked up in the chicken house so nothing can get them.